


This Was Not In My Contract

by singingwithoutwords



Series: You People Give Me Road Rage [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Amy is a total Mama Bear, Fury Meets His Match, Gen, Kidfic, Kidvengers, Magic, Seth and Amy are not married, although that's an idea, but Loki isn't to blame for once, but not in a romantic way, childcare is hard okay?, how is he still alive, ineffectual sympathetic villain, kid!Bruce, kid!Clint, kid!Natasha, kid!Thor, kid!Tony, kid!steve, kidfeels, nanny!JARVIS, seriously Tony stop asking, seriously this guy is so incompetent, teen!Coulson, yes Seth actually reads the fine print
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth's bosses are suddenly kids.  Thank God for unlimited funds and a coworker who actually knows how to handle these things.</p><p>OR</p><p>Obligatory Avengers-as-kids fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Worry, Amy's Got This

"With all due respect, Director Fury," Seth said as evenly as he could manage with a very frightened six-year-old Doctor Banner literally hiding under his shirt, "I've read my contract.  Taking care of my bosses if they suddenly turn into kids is not in it."

"Gimme five minutes and it will be," Fury snapped back, firmly pulling an eight-year-old Tony Stark off the curtains and putting him back on the floor.  "This counts as an emergency.  Just deal with them until we can come up with a better plan."

"Yeah.  Deal with them." Seth sighed, refusing to give into any of the slightly homocidal urges he was feeling.  "What, just because I clean houses, I know how to take care of kids?"

"You make them sound like radioactive waste, Seth," Amy spoke up from the doorway.  Seth glanced over his shoulder and noted with well-hidden relief that she had a kid under each arm and another clinging firmly to her belt.  "Where's Prince Thor?  Don't tell me I left you with an adult-to-kid ratio of 2 to 3, in a closed office, and you managed to _lose_  him."

"I am _not_ a babysitter, Amy," Seth snapped, regretting it when Doctor Banner went rigid and scrambled away from him.

Amy rolled her eyes at him and set Agent Barton on his feet, scooping Doctor Banner up with her free arm.  "Aw, it's okay, Brucey- Seth's just a grumpy grumpy bear.  He didn't mean to scare you."

Doctor Banner didn't look convinced, but at least he didn't shy away from Amy.

"Okay, not to be cliche here, but: _men_." Amy shook her head with an expressive sigh, blowing Agent Romanov's bangs up playfully and making her giggle softly.  "Men are silly, aren't they, sweetie?"

Agent Romanov nodded, smothing her bangs down.  "Silly," she agreed firmly.

"I bet they haven't even thought to ask if any of you are hungry, did they?  I bet Prince Thor snuck out to find some food."

"He said he was gonna find some mead," Mister Stark spoke up from halfway up the curtains again.  "He promised to bring some back, but that was ages ago, so he probably got lost.  He talks kinda funny, doesn't he?  Is he really a prince?  He dresses weird, if he is a prince he's prince of Weirdonia."

"Even the prince of Weirdonia deserves respect," Amy admonished him.  "Now get down from there."

"But there's something funny about this window, and I wanna know what!"

"Fine- you stay and look at the funny window, and the rest of us will go eat."

Seth barely had time to blink before Mister Stark was back on the floor, bouncing excitedly.  "Food!"

"Let's go, gentlemen," Amy said, pausing and rolling her eyes heavenward when neither Seth nor Director Fury moved.  "Okay, seriously.  I am one woman with limited clearance and six small children of unknown ability, _one of whom you managed to lose_ , and you think you're not coming along to help?"

"Men!" Agent Barton said helpfully, grinning, and Agent Romanov echoed him with flawless mimicry.

"Besides, Director- you have a pintsized god of thunder loose on your electricity-dependent ship, and I'm sure you don't need me to detail how _that_ situation's likely to end," Amy pointed out, settling Doctor Banner on her hip and looking behind her.  "Steve, sweetie, can you help Director Fury find Prince Thor?"

Captain Rogers nodded, letting go of her belt.  "Yes, Miss Amy," he said, smiling.

"Remember to be careful and don't push yourself," Amy warned him.  "If you start having trouble breathing, you stop walking and tell Director Fury, okay?  I'll worry otherwise."

"Yes, Miss Amy," Captain Rogers said again, hugging her waist before walking over to Director Fury.  Much like Mister Stark's arc reactor had vanished, Captain Rogers had lost any trace of the serum that made him Captain America, and he looked sickly and frail next to Fury.

"Thanks, sweetie.  Seth, let's go."

Any objection Seth might have raised wasn't worth dragging out when Mister Stark grabbed him by one wrist and Agent Barton snagged the other, trying to pull him bodily in the direction of food.

Yeah, this was definitely not in his contract.

* * *

Amy was, to be perfectly honest, not exactly keen on dragging four small children into the Helicarrier's main mess hall.  Especially not these four.  Tony might not be bothered by men with guns, but regardless of how Clint would react, Natasha would try to kill someone and they'd never find Bruce again.

Luckily, while hunting for Natasha and Clint, she'd come across a number of useful little conference rooms.  No booster seats, but they could make do.

"Come on, everybody inside," she said, herding them like ducklings into the nearest empty one.  "Come on, up in the chairs."

Natasha studied the room, frowning, then sighed and made a great show of wiggling to the floor and climbing into the nearest chair.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Amy said with a smile, setting Bruce down.  "We'll have to find you something to sit on, Brucey," she told him, ruffling his hair and earning herself a soft smile.  "Seth, run down to the mess hall and bring back some lunch, will you?"

"Why me?"

"Are you five or something?" Tony asked.  He'd claimed the chair at the head of the small table, and paused in his game of spinning to stare at Seth.  "Only babies say why me.  Big kids do what they're told without complaining.  So there."

Seth scowled.  Luckily, Amy was between him and Bruce, and the door closed on its own so it couldn't be slammed, which meant Bruce wasn't scared again.

"See?  A grumpy grumpy bear," she said.  "But he listens sometimes."

"Silly," Natasha pronounced, drumming her nails on the tabletop.  "Men."

"I'm a man, too," Tony said, puffing out his scrawny chest.  Despite apparently being two years older than Bruce, he was a few inches shorter and lacked Bruce's leftover baby fat, and therefore looked younger.  "And I'm not silly.  I'm supersmart.  Mama says I'm a genius."

Natasha swung her chair around, climbing onto her knees, and pointed at Tony.  "Silly."

"No, you are!" Tony shot back, sticking his tongue out.

Amy sighed, trying to hide her amusement, and headed off the brewing fight before it could gain speed.  If there was one thing having eight younger siblings had taught her, it was that fights were best stopped before they started.  Preferably with distractions.

"Who wants to draw?" she asked cheerfully, having dug up a large box of blank computer paper and a handful of pens.  Mostly black and blue, with a few red and green for good measure.  Enough for any reasonably creative child - read: every child, ever - to have fun with.  "We'll draw while we wait for Seth to get back with the food.  Sound good?"

Tony and Bruce were definitely okay with it.  Clint muttered that drawing was for babies, but still claimed the seat next to Natasha and started showing her how to draw a Big Top tent.

Amy sat down with a blue pen and a single sheet of paper, enjoying the quiet while it lasted.  She had enough experience to know she wouldn't have it for long.


	2. JARVIS Knows What's What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They found Phil. Whether or not this is a good thing remains to be seen.

Mister Stark was right: it really _was_ amazing what people could do if you threw enough money at them.

What would normally have taken a month had been accomplished in a matter of hours, leaving one of the empty levels of Stark Tower looking as if it had been plucked whole and entire from a kids' show. There was sturdy and brightly colored everything. Furniture sized to small children in dense plastics with rounded edges, soft carpeting, easily-washed paneling on the walls, temporary dividers splitting the space into small bedrooms surrounding a larger common area, and as many toys and games as could be delivered on such short notice.

JARVIS was feeling rather pleased with himself. He'd been obliged to set all this up himself, with no human go-between to handle interpersonal communication for him; Miss Potts was still in Japan on business that could not be suspended, Colonel Rhodes was deployed and had not yet been contacted, and his creator was a child. JARVIS felt his pride over what he had accomplished in a mere seven hours was pardonable, all things considered.

A sub-audible hum alerted him to an incoming call, which would normally be rerouted to the answering machine, but JARVIS was familiar with this blocked line and so answered it himself.

“Hello, deputy Director Hill,” he said politely. “How may I help you?”

Deputy Director Maria Hill spoke at length to someone JARVIS felt safe in assuming was not him, as the tirade consisted mainly of 'don't touch that,' 'sit back down this instant,' and 'I said no!', before returning her attention to him. “Is this Stark's tower?”

“Indeed, deputy Director. Has something new developed?”

“You could say that,” Hill agreed, snapping at whoever was with her to keep their grubby mitts to themselves. “We found Coulson.”

“I assume he was similarly affected?”

“Not quite. Touch me again and I will end you, do you understand me? Now sit! He's a bit... older.”

“Will he be joining the Avengers under my watch?” JARVIS asked. Humans, he'd noticed, tended to approach subjects they felt uncomfortable with in the most oblique manner possible.

“Yes,” Hill said. “Because if he stays here, he's going to get himself shot.”

“May I inquire as to his current apparent age?”

There was a long pause during which JARVIS could not detect anything but the sound of uncomfortable shuffling. “... Fifteen.”

“I see,” JARVIS said, separating part of his attention to the Tower blueprints and another part to the recently abandoned furnishing websites still in his cache. “Thank you for informing me. I will require perhaps another four hours to have suitable supplies delivered and arranged for him. Please refrain from killing any of the children in the meantime.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Hill said with a sigh. “We'll try to keep them all alive, but I make no promises.”

“My thanks, deputy Director,” JARVIS told her, disconnecting the call. He re-prioritized a few tasks and began shuffling through content in search of a suitable bedroom set, quickly writing and sending off notices to the painters and the store at which he'd placed orders for books and movies, then contacted the nearest electronics store. A teenager would require slightly more than a television and DVD player.

 

* * *

 

Seth came back with the food about two steps behind Fury, who had Thor but not Captain Rogers. He paused to thank God they'd found him before he accidentally shut the entire ship down.

“Where's Steve?” Amy asked them by way of greeting, frowning.

“Asthma attack,” Fury said, letting Thor run off to see what Tony was drawing. “He's in medical.”

“Is anyone with him?” Amy demanded, standing. “Don't tell me you just left him alone!”

“He's a grown man, Miss Williams.”

“No, he's an eleven-year-old boy who has no idea where he is or what's going on! Seth, feed the kids- I'm going to medical.”

“You aren't cleared for medical,” Fury disagreed.

“Then clear me,” Amy said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Before I kick your ass and take your clearance instead.”

“ _Ooooh_ , you said ass!” Tony piped up.

“Yes, and as punishment I don't get dessert,” Amy told him, glancing down at the kids. “Ass is a bad word and we're not supposed to say it, okay?”

There was a chorus of okays from around the table.

“I'll go to medical,” Seth volunteered. “You know if you leave me in charge here, you'll just have to give everyone baths.”

Amy sighed, nodding. “Okay, go. And don't leave his side for anything.”

“Yes, dear,” Seth said, turning on his heel. He'd spent enough time on the carrier to know where medical was, and he'd rather leave Fury to suffer Amy's wrath than let it simmer.

The corridors were mostly empty, and those few agents out recognized him, so he reached medical in short order. The doctor on duty led him to the cubicle where Captain Rogers sat on the narrow cot taking slow, deep breaths.

“Where's Miss Amy?” Captain Rogers asked as soon as Seth stepped into sight, which- okay, ow. Way to bruise the ego.

“With the other kids,” Seth said. “She sent me to make sure you're okay. Sorry Director Fury left you by yourself, C-Steve.” Amy had insisted from the get-go that they should call the team by their given names, to prevent confusion, but Seth was having a bit of trouble with that. “He's... not used to kids.”

“No, really?” Captain Rogers asked, with surprisingly developed sarcasm for his current age. “Sorry, sir, that was rude.”

“I don't mind,” Seth said, shrugging and sitting on the cot next to him. “And call me Seth. I'm just Amy's minion, anyway- you don't need to be formal with me.”

Captain Rogers giggled, trying to muffle it with the back of his hand.

“So, are you feeling better?” Seth asked. “I'm on loan to you, so if you're hungry, we can go back and have lunch.”

“Sounds swell,” Captain Rogers said, sliding to the floor, fiddling absently with his belt.

And honestly, Seth neither needed nor wanted to know _why_ SHIELD had several dozen jumpsuits in a variety of child sizes. His sanity probably couldn't handle the reasoning.

“Okay, then. Your wish is my command and all that.” Seth stood and stretched, leading Captain Rogers out of medical and back toward the meeting room.

 

* * *

 

Maria Hill was not having a good day.

Bad enough their main team had been knocked out of commission, necessitating a massive effort to coordinate with Richards – _Richards_ , the ass who called her dear and always looked shocked when she made decisions without Fury's input – to make sure their asses were covered. Bad enough the Helicarrier had somehow become a daycare, with the Avengers being handled by a civilian who wasn't even technically cleared to be near them while they were compromised. Bad enough one of her oldest and closest friends was suddenly less than half her age and dragging an attitude the size of the Hulk wherever he went.

No, to truly put the poison cherry on her crappy day, 15-year-old Phillip Coulson was _hitting on her_.

Maria stalked the corridors radiating anger from every fiber of her being, silently reminding herself that when he wasn't managing to insult her while attempting to seduce her, Phil was her friend. Good people did not shoot their friends. Not even non-fatally.

_I will not shoot him. I will not shoot him. I will not-_

“Y'know, you've got a nice ass,” Phil spoke up from behind her. “I think I could follow it anywhere. Especially in that outfit.”

_I am going to fucking kill him._

“Deputy Director Hill!”

Maria had never been so relieved to see a civilian. Williams had managed to worm her way in as primary handler during this fiasco, but Lautner was helping her. Close enough.

She grabbed Phil by the arm and dragged him over to Lautner and Captain Rogers, shoving the brat at them. “He's your problem now,” she said, spinning and hurrying away before anyone could object, resisting the urge to indulge in a victory dance.

 

* * *

 

“For such a babe, she's got a rotten personality,” Phil said, watching Agent Don't-Touch-Me Hill walk away. He was gonna miss her. She was just his type, too, hot and slim and could probably break him in half. “Think I've got a chance with her?”

“If you mean a chance to die horribly, then yes. I'm Seth.”

“Phil,” Phil said, shaking Seth's hand. “So where are we? Hottie Hill didn't tell me anything.”

“Probably because you called her something as idiotic as Hottie Hill,” Seth replied. “Come on, you might as well come to lunch with us.”

“I can do food,” Phil said, shrugging, glancing at the kid holding Seth's hand. Blond and basically a toothpick with amazing blue eyes. “Who's the pipsqueak?”

“I could take you,” the kid objected, bristling.

“Hey!” Seth said loudly. “There will be no taking anybody, got me? Steve, Phil. Phil, Steve. Now both of you shut your mouths and follow me before I lose my mind.”

Phil shrugged, wishing the clothes they'd given him to replace the way-too-big monkey suit he'd woken up in came with pockets. He had to settle for linking his fingers behind his head and faking a bored expression. Hopefully wherever they were going would have some answers for him, because this whole mess was just plain weird.


	3. Seth is Just Not Good With Kids, Okay?

It wasn't that Phil minded drawing with a bunch of kids, except... well, it was _drawing_. With a bunch of kids. And he was 15 years old, way too old for that. He was almost old enough to drive, for Pete's sake, he couldn't do baby things like drawing on computer paper!

So he sat at the table with his arms crossed, doing his best to look like he didn't care about anything while he watched everything around him.

Tony was definitely a spoiled dweeb, and Thor didn't seem too smart since he thought everything Tony said or did was amazing.

Clint and Natasha were probably sibs, because Phil didn't see them get more than a foot away from each other even while they were eating, and they'd gone to the _bathroom_ together. If they weren't sibs, that was just creepy.

Steve was a goody-two-shoes and would probably spontaneously explode if he stopped being polite. Who did the kid think he was, Captain America? It took more than being blond and being named Steve to pull _that_ off.

Bruce was... a baby. Not only did he look about 3, but he ducked out of sight under the table any time anyone looked at him, and didn't say a word to anyone, no matter who talked to him.

Seth was okay, for an adult. He looked like a girl and didn't even act like he was in charge, so Phil could probably pretty much ignore him.

Amy had the mothering older sister look going for her, which wasn't so bad even if Phil did miss Agent Hill's rockin' bod. She kept hugging Bruce and checking up on everyone like this was some stupid daycare.

After about the fifth time Tony tried to steal his paper because Phil wasn't drawing anything, he gave up and grabbed a pen. If it got them to leave him alone...

“Whatcha drawing?” Tony asked immediately, climbing onto the table. “C'mon, let me see- I'll show you my stuff!”

“Like I'd be interested in junk drawn by a kid,” Phil snorted, trying to be cool about it.

“It's not junk!” Tony protested, grabbing a sheet of paper and shoving it in Phil's face. “See? I'm making a robot to help my dad find Captain America! He called when I won even though he's way out in Canada somewhere right now, and he said I'm super good at robots, so I'm gonna make him one as soon as I get home.”

Phil tried, he really really tried, not to get interested. It was hard. “You can't build robots, you're a baby.”

“I am not!”

“Hey!” Seth yelled, interrupting them. “I swear to God, if the two of you don't start behaving _right the fu_ -”

“Seth,” Amy said calmly. A quick glance told Phil she had a lap full of Bruce again, and he was crying. “Do not raise your voice again. Phil, it isn't nice to call people babies. Tony, knees and shoes do not belong on tables.”

“Sorry,” Tony said, sliding back into his chair.

“Thank you, Tony. Seth?”

“What?”

Amy just gave Seth this look Phil had seen his mom give his dad when he tried to place stupid with her.

“Okay, fine- sorry I yelled. Better?”

“Slightly. Phil?”

“Sorry I called you a baby,” Phil said, because he honestly was. Captain America would be _so_ disappointed in him for name-calling a little kid. “If you say you can build robots, I guess you can.”

“Thank you, Phil,” Amy said, smiling at him, and Phil smiled back. “Seth, if I take Bruce outside to calm him down, will you be able to behave as if you're at least as old as Steve?”

“I don't make promises I don't know I can keep,” Seth said. “I'll try, though.”

“You do that.” She stood and carried Bruce out of the room, leaving the rest of them to draw in silence.

 

* * *

 

Amy took Bruce to another empty conference room, sitting down and settling him comfortably in her lap. Poor kid. Dr. Banner was usually so together and in control that it was hard to think of him as a kid at all, but given what kind of kid he'd turned into... well, it was sad, because no 6-year-old should cry so quietly.

Kids, in Amy's experience, cried for two reasons: because they were hurt, or because they wanted attention. And in the case they were hurt, the crying was to get an adult to notice and make it stop. Kids who didn't make noise when they cried, who tried to hide the fact that they _were_ crying, did so because they were afraid, and didn't trust an adult to make it better. And that was unforgivable.

After a few more minutes of sitting quietly, Bruce managed to cry himself out.

“Feeling better, Brucie?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle him. He nodded, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jumpsuit. “Do you want to go back and draw some more?” He shook his head quickly. “Okay. We'll stay here a little longer.”

He looked up at her, wide-eyed, and she could guess why. He more than likely wasn't used to adults listening to him and letting him do what _he_ wanted; probably every adult he'd known – or close to – had just decided what he should do and made him do it.

“We can talk for a bit, if you want.”

Bruce swallowed, biting his lip, then nodded. “A-about... w-what?”

“Well, why don't you tell me what you did yesterday?” They'd already been able to gather that, with the exception of Steve passing out after a bad asthma attack, the whole team had simply gone to bed and woken up in place of their adult selves in medical. Now was as good a time as any to do a bit of digging.

Bruce glanced quickly at the door, as if afraid to be caught doing something wrong. “D-don't be m-mad?”

“I won't,” Amy promised. “Cross my heart.” She left out the part about hoping to die and sticking needles in her eye- she doubted Bruce would take it well.

Bruce still hesitated a long moment before he opened his mouth again. “Th-there was a k-kitty. A m-mommy k-kitty. She w-was gonna h-have babies i-in the alley, an' it w-was r-raining, s-s-so I... I... h-helped. F-found her a b-box a-an' g-gave her my s-sw-weater so she w-wouldn't be c-cold.”

“That was very sweet of you, Bruce,” Amy said encouragingly. “I'm sure she was very grateful. Did anything else happen?”

The hesitation didn't last quite as long before he nodded. “B-babies don't bel-long i-in alleys, so I t-took her to th-the sh-shelter with her babies. S-so they'd b-be s-safe.”

Amy smiled wider, hugging him impulsively. “Oh, Brucie, you're such a sweet boy,” she told him. “That was exactly the right thing to do- I'm so proud of you!”

“R-really?”

“Really, Bruce. I'm so very proud of you. We should go tell Seth- he'll be very proud, too.”

Bruce seemed doubtful, but didn't object, so Amy stood and went to rejoin the others.

 

* * *

 

Clint and Natasha had decided, of their own accord and with no input from anyone else, that it was naptime. Seth guessed letting himself be mugged for his jacket was okay when the muggers in question were six, and he had to admit – privately, to himself, where it would remain a secret forever and Agent Romanov could never, ever, find out – that it was kind of cute when they curled up together under it and immediately fell asleep.

Steve was content to draw in silence behind an ever-growing mound of paper, and Tony had gone back to explaining basic robotics to Thor, so Seth sat down next to Phil.

“What's shakin', old man?” Phil asked without looking up from what looked like a diagram of Captain America's old uniform.

“I'm bored,” Seth confessed. “And you're the only other person in the room who's hit puberty.”

“Yeah, but I'm not ancient like you.”

“Call me ancient again and I'll thrash you,” Seth warned. “That's a pretty good drawing- you a fan of the Captain?”

Phil turned bright red and covered the drawing with both arms.

“Jesus, Phil, I'm not gonna tease you about it,” Seth said, sighing. He really did not understand kids. Of any age. “As it happens, I'm a fan of his, too.”

Phil glared at him suspiciously for a long moment before slowly moving his arms. “It's not the real one,” he said. “It's the one from the comic books. I don't know what the real one looks like 'cause all I can find is newsreels and you can't check those out of the library.”

“Wasn't there a cartoon, too, or something?” Seth asked, because he did in fact know a bit about Captain America's fandom, and the cartoon had ended in the 60s.

Phil snorted in disgust. “The cartoon was stupid. They got everything wrong. Everyone with a brain knows Captain America never got married to Peggy Carter, and Bucky's middle name wasn't Jeffrey.”

Seth nodded, fighting not to smile. “I bet it would've been good if you'd been involved in making it. I'm pretty sure a kid like you knows pretty much everything about Captain America.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah. Yesterday the library had a thing with a couple of the Howling Commandos. There was a questionnaire. I'm the only one who got all the questions right.” And yeah, that was definitely a flush of pleasure. “I got to meet Sergeant Dugan.”

“That is impressive,” Seth admitted, letting himself smile.

Phil grinned at him. “Adam from school made fun of me, but Sergeant Dugan made him wet his pants.”

Seth laughed at that, quietly to avoid waking Clint and Natasha. “You know, for a pimple-faced teen angst machine, you're not so bad.”

“You're not so bad, either,” Phil said. “Y'know, for a girly dinosaur.”

Fortunately, Amy came back with Bruce and headed off the potential ribbing contest in the making.

 

* * *

 

JARVIS reviewed his lists one last time, wanting to be certain absolutely nothing had been overlooked.

He was prepared to meet the dietary needs of all present age ranges. There was sufficient clothing in the proper sizes for all seven of his soon-to-be charges, in a range that would allow them to find something suitable to their personalities. He should certainly have plenty of toys of a variety to appeal to all of them in some aspect. Each temporary bedroom had been outfitted to suit what he knew of each Avenger at their respective ages. Agent Coulson had a private television, a number of gaming consoles and games to accompany them, and a serviceable desktop computer courtesy of SI.

He was a prepared as it was possible for him to be.

Had he lungs and a diaphragm, he would have sighed. He had to settle for a minute dimming of lights to express himself before closing all unnecessary programs and initiating a phone call.

“Director Fury, you may send the children home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter begins the plot, as well as all the super-cute migraines that occur when you have seven adorable kids who are destined to become the Avengers loose in a sentient building. ^^


	4. The End of a Long Day

JARVIS had taken the liberty of commandeering one of Mr. Stark's more circumspect private jets to ferry the children back to the Tower. It would be more comfortable for them, and would allow JARVIS to keep an eye on them throughout the trip. Amy was grateful they had an AI on their side, because she did not think a military jet would go down well with anyone but Tony.

She carried Clint and Natasha aboard. They'd woken up as soon as she'd come back in the room, but she hadn't wanted to let them get _too_ awake- after this day, they needed the rest.

Phil had offered to carry Bruce, who had shyly accepted. Phil was apparently young enough not to set off the same alarms Seth and Fury did, which was good. He was adorable, but she did have to divide her attention seven ways now.

Amy settled Clint and Natasha on a wide seat together and got them a blanket. They spread it over Seth's jacket instead of tossing it aside in the blanket's favor, which made her smile, and she gave both a soft kiss on the forehead before turning to the others.

Phil had found a seat all the way near the tail of the plane and settled in with Bruce on his lap. They were holding a quiet conversation that Amy didn't want to chance interrupting by getting close enough to hear.

Tony had claimed one of two seats facing a small table, and gotten Thor to sit across from him. They were holding a fairly animated conversation of their own; Amy caught mention of hunting and bilgesnipes as she passed them.

Steve had picked a seat directly behind the cockpit. He sat quietly, a neat stack of drawings in his lap, and stared down at his hands. Amy sat next to him, gesturing for Seth to sit further back.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” she asked. He wasn't having audible trouble breathing at least, but he still looked down.

“I'm fine, Miss Amy,” Steve said, offering her a small smile.

“You can be honest with me, Steve,” Amy said gently. “What's wrong, sweetie?”

Steve bit his lip, toying with the edges of the papers. “I lost my dollar,” he said after a moment, flushing slightly in embarrassment. “I sold some drawings to a rich lady for a whole dollar, and I lost it. I was gonna buy Bucky a real dinner.”

Amy had plenty of dollars in her wallet, but she knew enough about inflation to know that what she considered small change would probably be a fortune to Steve. “They must have been wonderful drawings,” she said, reaching over and smoothing his hair away from his forehead.

He nodded dejectedly. The puppy eyes were obviously _not_ a result of whatever serum had turned him into Captain America.

“It's okay, Steve,” she assured him. “We'll see if we can't find your dollar for you, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Amy,” he said, probably more to humor her than anything. He was such a sweetheart.

“Come on, let's take a nap. It'll be a bit before we get home.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone fell asleep on the plane, even Agent Coulson, Seth, and Amy. JARVIS wondered somewhat wistfully what it felt like to smile; the surge in power along his core processors was certainly analogous from what he could discern, but he still wondered what the physical sensation of a smile might be.

He sounded a soft chime over the jet's PA system, the one he used to wake Miss Potts without also waking Mr. Stark, and Seth opened his eyes.

“Good evening, Seth,” JARVIS said, moderating his volume to a low but audible whisper. “You've landed at the airfield. Mr. Hogan will be bringing you the rest of the way to the Tower. Please wake Amy and inform her.”

“Got it,” Seth whispered back, standing and stretching.

JARVIS detected slightly elevated heartrate and faint tensing from Agents Romanov and Barton as Seth passed them, and he channeled his voice only through the speaker nearest them. “Hello, Clint,” he said. _“Zdrastvutyeh, Natasha.”_

Agent Romanov giggled. It was a pleasing sound, and he filed it in his databanks without processing a proper reason why he should. “ _Zdurova,_ ” she said, looking around as if to spot where he was.

“Who are you?” Agent Barton asked, sitting up and stretching. “Where are you? Are you a friend of Amy's? Do you speak lots of Russian? What's your name? How'd you know our names?”

JARVIS's vocal banks included a variety of laughter, and he was able to chuckle at Agent Barton's questions as he watched through the jet's cameras as Amy woke Captain Rogers and Seth try to rouse Mr. Stark. “My name is Jarvis. I'm awaiting your arrival at the Tower, where you will be staying for the foreseeable future. Yes, I consider Amy a close friend- she called ahead to inform me you were coming. And yes, I do indeed speak fluent Russian.” Though he suspected from her body language that Agent Romanov understood at least basic English, he repeated himself in Russian for her benefit.

“So you're on the phone or something?” Agent Barton asked, sliding off the seat and helping Agent Romanov down. “Cool. Will we be staying long? Does Barney know where I am? He's not gonna get kicked out of the circus just 'cause I'm not there, right?”

JARVIS dearly wished just then for the ability to smile. “I will answer all your questions once you're here,” he assured him. “Have you ever ridden in a limousine?”

“I have!” Mr. Stark interrupted, having wormed his way under the seat, narrowly avoiding having his small hand stomped on.

“Well, that's 'cause you're a rich kid,” Agent Barton said, shrugging. “I'm not. Are we gonna take a limo to your place, Mr. Jarvis?”

“Not if you all stand around gossiping,” Amy called, laughing. “Come on, let's go- Happy's waiting!”

“Happy is a clown name,” Agent Barton said, pulling Agent Romanov toward the door. “Is our driver a clown?”

“No, he's a boxer,” Amy explained, ushering them off the plane and out of JARVIS's currently limited sight. He was not ashamed to admit he'd be relieved once they were safely in the Tower and he would be able to see them at all times.

 

* * *

 

The sun had mostly set by the time everyone was loaded into the back of the limo. It was a pretty fancy limo, and it had a bar that someone'd emptied. Tony wasn't sure why, honest- he was only 8, and even _he_ knew better than to touch stuff in the bar. It being empty just made it look funny.

Thor fell asleep on him as soon as they drove off, which was okay. Thor didn't know much of anything, but he still listened when Tony explained things to him. He'd probably be pretty smart if he ever went to school and stopped thinking he was 400 years old. Maybe if his parents owned a good company, they could be friends. Tony would like that.

Tony wiggled out from under Thor, who fell over on the seat and didn't even wake up, and slid onto the limo floor. Seth was busy with the redhead and her maybe-brother and Amy was talking to Steve, so neither of them noticed him. Tony was great at not being noticed by grown-ups; he could spend hours in his dad's workshop, and he'd never even see him. Tony was just that good.

“You should be sitting down when we're driving.”

Tony turned, craning his neck to look up at Phil. “I am sitting,” he said. “On the floor.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “You're supposed to stay on the seats. That's why cars have seats.”

“Cars have seats 'cause grown-ups are weird about their clothes,” Tony disagreed, sliding over and folding his arms on the seat next to Phil. “Mom never wants to ride in some of Dad's cars 'cause it messes up her fancy dresses. What year were you born?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“It's a secret. Just tell me, please? Please please please please please?”

“1965,” Phil said, sighing. “Why?”

“Are you 13?”

“No, I'm 15. Geez, it's basic math.”

“I know,” Tony said, smiling. “I was born in 1970, and I'm 8.”

“Are you sure you're supposed to be smart?” Phil asked. “You're 10.”

“No, I'm 8,” Tony insisted lightly. “Weird, right? You're 15, which means it's 19... um... 1980. And I'm 8, which means it's 1978. Which means something funny's going on here, right? Hey, Bruce, what year is it?”

Bruce jumped a little, swallowing hard enough that Tony could hear it. “N-ninet-teen s-sev... sevent-ty-f-five?”

“See, Bruce and me can't both be really bad at remembering the year, right?” Tony asked Phil, grinning. “Wanna know what I think?” Phil shrugged, but Tony could tell he really wanted to know. “I think we all got kidnapped by time travelers.”

“Time travel's not real,” Phil said. “And nobody'd kidnap me, anyway, my family's poor.”

“Well, what do you think happened, then?”

“I don't know, maybe we're in the future or something.”

“You just said time travel's not real,” Tony reminded him. “I'll just ask Jarvis when we get home. He always tells me the truth, even when Dad tells him not to.”

“Who's Jarvis?”

“He's our butler. I heard him on the phone earlier. He sounded funny, like he's got a cold or something. He's not supposed to get sick- he's too neat for that.”

“You are so weird,” Phil said, rolling his eyes. “Stop talking before you wake up Thor.”

Tony snorted, but slid back over to sit on the other side of the limo. He couldn't wait to see Jarvis and tell him all about his day today. Maybe Mom would be home, too, and Dad might call again, so he could tell him about the robot to help find Captain America. Then Dad would be even more proud of him.

He yawned, covering it with his arm, and closed his eyes for just a minute.

 

* * *

 

Seth sighed, rolling his neck until it cracked. “So do we wake them up, or...”

Amy shook her head. “I'll get Happy to take Tony, and wake Phil to carry Bruce. Think you can manage Thor on your own while I get the twins?”

Seth nodded. “JARVIS said their rooms are all ready, so we just have to take them up and tuck them in, right?”

“Yeah, just this once. We'll have to get them all to brush their teeth extra-well tomorrow, though. Steve, sweetie, can you grab our jackets, please?”

Steve, the only one who'd managed not to nod off during the car ride, nodded, and they began the task of moving seven children up 50 stories without waking four of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it took them a whole chapter just to get to the Tower. Don't judge me.
> 
> Steve's $1 is equal to about $14 today.
> 
>  _Zdrastvutyeh_ is 'hello' in Russian. _Zdurova_ is more informal, but means the same thing.
> 
> And yes, I did all the math on their ages, using birthdates from the MCU wikia. Did you know Bruce is only four years younger than Coulson?
> 
> As always, comments are adored!


	5. Honesty is the Best Policy

Bruce woke to the smell of bacon and cinnamon, in a room that definitely wasn't his. It was warm, first, and everything in it looked brand new and clean. He lied perfectly still, not wanting to let anyone know he was awake yet, and tried to think. He remembered yesterday, the scary ship full of grown-ups with guns and stern frowns, and the man with the eyepatch who yelled at everyone. He remembered Amy, the other kids, Phil, a plane – his first ever plane ride – and then he must've fallen asleep. This room meant all that hadn't been a dream at all, which was scarier even than the man with the eyepatch.

He sat up, biting his lip, and slid off the bed. He was still wearing the stuff they'd given him yesterday, and he didn't see any of his clothes, so he turned around and did his best to make the bed before going to the door. It was unlocked; he cracked it open and peeked out, not sure if he was allowed to leave.

“Good morning, Bruce,” a voice said from somewhere above him, making him jump and bang his elbow on the wall. “Forgive me- it wasn't my intent to startle you. Would you like to join the other children for breakfast?”

Bruce swallowed, holding his banged elbow carefully in his other hand, and nodded. He hadn't eaten much on the ship yesterday, and two meals in a row sounded good. “Yeah. I-if it's okay, that is.”

“It's perfectly okay, Bruce,” the voice said, and the door swung open enough for him to step out of the little bedroom.

The room outside was... amazing. It was like the playroom at the shelter, only better. Everything was brand new and clean, and there was so _much_ of it. It was warm, too, with soft carpet and bright lights, and Phil was there.

Bruce liked Phil. He'd imagined a lot what it might be like to have a big brother, and Phil was just like that, even though they'd only just met. Phil wasn't scary like the grownups, and he hadn't made fun of Bruce for being a chicken or stuttering. Phil was... nice.

Phil was by the table with a few of the other kids, helping Mister Seth set out plates of food. He looked up and spotted Bruce and smiled, which didn't usually happen when people noticed him.

“Morning, Bruce,” Phil said, putting down one last plate and walking over. He held out his hand, and Bruce took it shyly. “You're the last one awake, sleepyhead,” and he didn't sound mean about it or as if Bruce had been bad to sleep later than everyone else. “Let's eat breakfast, then Seth says there's clothes for all of us. Sound good?”

Bruce nodded, glancing around Phil at the table. It was round with seven chairs, and all of the chairs had plates in front of them. Natasha and Clint – Bruce knew their names even though they hadn't been told to him directly, he was very good at listening – were already sitting next to each other, bunched up close. Then there was an empty chair, then Prince Thor, then two more empty chairs, then Steve.

Miss Amy came in with a big tray of cups. Tony was with her, and for one awful moment Bruce was afraid he'd take one of the chairs between Steve and Prince Thor, then Bruce wouldn't be able to sit next to Phil. But Tony took the chair between Prince Thor and Clint instead, and Bruce thanked God for being nice.

Phil smiled and picked Bruce up, carrying him to the table and sitting him next to Steve, then helped Miss Amy pass out cups.

“There we go,” Miss Amy said. “You can all go ahead and eat. If you're still hungry, there's more in the kitchen, okay?”

Bruce remembered to say thank you before he looked down at his plate. Two pancakes, a scoop of eggs, two pieces of bacon, and even a little bit of syrup.

“I don't like eggs,” Tony said, and Bruce nearly dropped his fork, looking around frantically for Mister Seth. If he heard Tony being... being ungrateful, then he might...

“Eat 'em, anyway,” Miss Amy said, ruffling Tony's hair. “Nobody gets seconds unless they clean their plate.”

Bruce couldn't help but stare until Phil nudged him. “Better eat up before it gets cold.”

Bruce nodded, concentrating on eating. He was used to cold eggs and pancakes, but they tasted especially good still hot.

Tony wound up slipping most of his eggs onto Thor's plate, and Bruce _knew_ Miss Amy saw, but he didn't get in trouble for it. He even still got seconds.

After breakfast Steve and Thor helped Miss Amy clear the table, then everyone had to brush their teeth, and Phil took Bruce back to the room where he'd woken up. He hadn't noticed before, but the door even had his name on it in big yellow letters, which meant it really was actually for him. HE hardly knew what to think about that.

Besides the bed, there was also a nightstand, a desk and chair that were just the right size for Bruce, and a dresser painted blue and white like the sky. Phil knelt in front of the dresser and pulled open a drawer that contained... clothes. Jeans and sweats and fancy dress pants, and none of it looked old or worn or like it was anything other than brand new.

“These are mine?” Bruce asked, biting his lip. “Really?”

“Well, they're a bit too small for me,” Phil said, smiling, and held up a pair of jeans. “You okay with me picking something out for you?”

Bruce nodded, curling his toes in the carpet. It only took Phil a minute to find a shirt and other stuff, then hand all of it to Bruce.

“I'm gonna go get dressed, too,” Phil said, ruffling Bruce's hair. Bruce managed not to pull away or try to hide. “Meet you in the common room, okay?”

Bruce nodded again. Phil left, closing the door, and Bruce started looking for how to get the jumpsuit off.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Seth said, sighing. “They're fed, clean, and mostly dressed.”

“Mmhmm,” Amy agreed, calmly handing Thor back his shirt and waiting patiently until he gave in and put it back on.

“Jarvis, got an ETA on that SHIELD agent?”

“Not for another hour, Seth,” Jarvis answered. “I've completed Natasha's gift, so now would be the best time.”

Seth nodded, sighing again. “Amy, round up the beasts?”

Amy laughed. “You will eventually have to figure out how to deal with kids,” she said, shooing Thor toward the couch before raising her voice so the other mini-Avengers could hear. “Guys, can you please come over here?”

Tony dropped the block he was holding, which knocked over the tower he'd been building, which spilled across the game of checkers Phil was teaching Bruce how to play, and Seth honestly expected an argument. Instead, all three just got up and headed for the couch. Steve got up from the table where he was drawing, and Clint and Natasha stayed firmly in their little corner until Jarvis said something to them in Russian.

It took a minute to get everyone settled on the couch. Seth managed to avoid the ordeal by going into the other room and grabbing Natasha's newly-finished gift, and Amy had worked her kiddie-magic by the time he got back.

“Okay, guys,” Amy said. “Since we're all just getting to know each other, we're going to do introductions. One at a time, I want everyone to say their name, their age, and what year it is. And remember, it's not nice to interrupt, so no talking until it's your turn, okay?”

“Ooh, ooh, can I go first?” Tony asked, practically bouncing off the couch. “My name's Tony Stark, I'm eight years old, and it's 1978!”

“Is not, dummy,” Clint said. “It's 1977.”

“Clint,” Amy said, just loud enough to be heard over the fight trying to break out. “What did I just say about interrupting?”

Clint slouched slightly on the couch, crossing his arms. “To not to?”

“Apologize to Tony, please.”

“M'sorry,” Clint mumbled, slouching further.

“For?” Amy pressed.

“Interrupting?”

“And?”

“Um... callin' him a dummy?”

“It's okay,” Tony said, shrugging. “I get called way way worse all the time. 'Sides, we're probably both wrong, 'cause we all got kidnapped by time travelers.”

Seth managed to keep from laughing. Barely.

“Thank you, Tony,” Amy said evenly. “Since you already told us the year, Clint, would you like to tell us your name and age?”

“I'm Clint and I'm nearly seven,” Clint said. “An' this is Nat. She speaks Russian, but I'm pretty sure she's not a Commie.”

Jarvis spoke to Natasha, who responded shortly. They went back and forth for a minute before Jarvis switched back to English and informed the rest of them, “Natasha is currently six years old as well, and gave the year as 1990.”

Steve raised his hand. Somehow, Seth was not surprised. “Can I go next?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Amy said, smiling brightly.

“Well... my name's Steve Rogers, I'm eleven, and I _thought_ it was 1929.”

Phil made a noise just shy of so high it was outside the range of human hearing.

“Why don't you go next, Phil?” Amy asked, and Seth couldn't decide if she was a genius or just evil.

“Phil, 15, 1980,” Phil rattled off, staring openly at Steve. “ _The_ Steve Rogers? Like... like... _Captain Amer-_ ”

“Phil, it's Bruce's turn to talk.”

“Right,” Phil said, looking down at Bruce. “Sorry for talking during your turn, buddy.”

Bruce mumbled something into Phil's shirt that Seth couldn't understand.

“Well, we know his name's Bruce,” Tony spoke up. “And last night he said it was 1975. So all he has to say is how old he is. You can do that, Bruce.”

Bruce responded by not removing his face from Phil's chest.

“That's okay, Bruce; you don't have to say anything,” Amy said. “Well, my name's Amy, it's very impolite to ask a woman her age-”

“37,” Seth interrupted helpfully, sidestepping out of her reach.

“-but Seth's a very impolite person, and the year is 2012. Your turn, Seth.”

“Seth, 31, 2012.”

“You've both got the same year,” Tony said, bouncing slightly in place. “Does that mean it's really 2012? Are you time travelers? Did you kidnap us? How'd you do it? Can I be a time traveler, too?”

“Honestly, we've got no idea how you got here,” Seth said. “We didn't have anything to do with it, though, I know that much. Jarvis, should I give it to her now?”

“Please,” Jarvis answered.

Seth pulled the slim mini-Starkpad out of his pocket and set it on the arm of the couch next to Natasha. “Fair warning, nobody else touches that thing. Natasha speaks Russian and the rest of us speak English, so Jarvis put this together as a translator. She needs it to communicate, so leave it alone.”

Tony, who'd already climbed halfway on top of Clint to grab the Starkpad, immediately snatched his hand back and sat back down. “Sorry!”

Natasha picked the Starkpad up curiously, tilting her head to the side as Cyrillic print scrolled across the screen, then smiled slightly. She spoke a short phrase, then turned the screen so Seth could read it.

**Thank you.**

“You're welcome,” Seth said, giving her time to read the translation. “Okay, for today, you kids need to just get used to being in the Tower, which means it's time for Jarvis to introduce himself properly.”

“Thank you, Seth,” Jarvis said. “My name is Jarvis. I am an artificial intelligence which inhabits this building. For all intents and purposes, I _am_ the Tower. If you need anything or have questions of any kind, you may ask them of me. I will hear you wherever you are, if you are in the building, and I will do my best to help.”

Natasha was bent over the Starkpad, eyes darting across the translation. Clint was looking over his shoulder even though Seth would bet a month's pay he couldn't understand any of it. Tony was practically vibrating in his seat. Steve looked like a lost puppy. Thor looked like this sort of thing happened to him every day.  Phil looked like he wasn't sure how he felt about this. Bruce looked like he'd just found Nirvana.

“Seth and I will be here, too,” Amy said. “We'll be staying in the Tower and sticking close until you're all just completely tired of us.” She smiled brightly at them all, and they all smiled back with varying degrees of shyness. “Now, there are some blocks that need cleaning up, then how would you guys like to watch a movie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on all my stories in bits and pieces lately; so glad I finally managed to finish off a chapter to something!


	6. Of Talking Mice and Clueless Men

Jarvis selected the movie, doing his best to find a compromise between what would be engaging for all the children, yet not overwhelming for Steve and Prince Thor. It took him only seconds of real-time to process his newly enlarged selection, but he waited until the children had finished putting away their toys and returned to the couch before letting it play.

Despite its status as a classic, reactions suggested that none of the children bar Phil had ever seen _Mary Poppins_ before- unfortunate, given the reviews he had encountered. Then again, his little charges had likely missed far more than a few movies, a sad reality he hoped to have some small part in rectifying.

He devoted perhaps more of his processing power than strictly necessary to maintaining a running translation for Natasha, leaving the barest minimum for any functions which were not directly involved with the children. Sir's workshop being closed for the duration of this...  _incident_ freed up a great deal of power, all of which he intended to use for the benefit of his charges.

Once the children were settled comfortably and engrossed in the movie to varying degrees, Seth left the room for the kitchen, knocking lightly on the doorframe as he passed it.

“Hey, Jarvis?” he said, and Jarvis shunted a bit of his active observation to the kitchen.

“Yes, Seth?”

“I'm gonna leave the kids to you and Amy and get some work done,” Seth said, running a hand through his hair. It was down today- unusual, as Seth had been seen in the Tower without his hair tied back only seven times since he first began working there. “When whoever SHIELD's sending gets here, send them to me first, and let Amy know where I am, okay?”

“Of course, Seth. Are you certain you wouldn't rather remain until the end of the movie?”

Seth made a rude noise. “It should be blindingly obvious by now that I don't do kids, Jarvis. They like Amy better, anyway, so let them stay with her while I go do something I'm actually good at.”

“I'm certain the children would become more relaxed with you if you stayed.”

“I'll pass,” Seth said. “Just let me know when that agent gets here.”

“If you're certain,” Jarvis said, letting dubiousness color his words.

“I am,” Seth said firmly. “Just keep an eye on the kids and let me know when that SHIELD agent gets here.”

“I shall,” Jarvis promised. The bulk of his attention remained with the children, but he did split off a part of himself to keep a metaphorical eye on Seth.

* * *

Seth decided to start at the bottom, with Dr. Banner's floor, and work his way up. Since he didn't have to worry about being interrupted and only planned on doing the basics, it should only take a few hours to cover all the private floors. If he really pushed, he might be able to finish by the time Amy would need him for lunch.

Dr. Banner was a neat person by nature, so his floor didn't take long. Neither did Captain Rogers', and he was in the middle of dusting Agent Barton's sitting room when the door to the elevator landing banged open behind him. He turned and watched Clint and Natasha spill into the room like a two-kid tide, stumbling to a stop several feet in.

“What are you two doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” Clint said, grinning broadly.

“The movie can't be over already,” Seth said, glancing around for a clock to check the time.

“It's not,” Clint said, his smile dimming slightly. “We just wanted to know where you were. Sorry, guess that was bad of us, we'll go back now. Sorry to bother you. C'mon, Nat.”

Seth sighed, silently cursing his own ineptitude. He  _hated_ being faced with things he was no good at, and dealing with kids was very high on that list. “You don't have to leave,” he said. “I just- I figured the movie would be more interesting than me. That's all I meant. You can stay.”

Clint's smile came back even brighter than before, and Natasha giggled, saying something to her translator and turning it around for him to read.

**The movie is boring. You're nice.**

Okay. He didn't get nice often, but it wasn't completely unheard-of. “Thank you, Natasha.”

“So how come you're cleaning?” Clint asked. “Shouldn't Amy be doing that? Cleaning's a girl thing, isn't it, Mr. Grayson never ever cleans anything, he always makes his wife do it.”

“I like cleaning,” Seth said, going back to dusting but keeping an eye on the pair out of the corner of his eye. “Amy helps, but right now she's busy taking care of you guys, so I'm doing all the cleaning.”

“When will you be done? When you're done will you play with us?”

“I don't know,” Seth said. He was mostly done with this floor, but he still had three more to do, and by then it would be well past lunch time. “If you want, I could... take a break. We can watch a more interesting movie?”

Clint whooped enthusiastically, and Natasha nodded like a bobblehead doll.

“Can we watch _Jaws_?” Clint asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Absolutely not,” Seth said, stowing his dust rag and moving the cart against the wall. “Amy would have my head if I let you watch that. Jarvis?”

“Yes, Seth?” Jarvis asked, entering the conversation smoothly.

“Kid-friendly movies from 1977 or earlier?”

“ _The Rescuers_ has fair ratings, and might appeal to young Master Clint.”

“That doesn't come out until June, though,” Clint protested.

“Future, remember?” Seth said, smiling at the way Clint's eyes went wide. “Wanna watch that one?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Seth laughed. Natasha laughed with him, hurrying over to the couch and climbing on it. “You two get settled- I'll make us some popcorn. Jarvis, queue the movie, please.”

Clint joined Natasha on the couch, and Seth went to the kitchen. He knew where Agent Barton kept the microwave popcorn, and the smart microwave would make sure it didn't get scorched, which meant he could get drinks at the same time.

“Oh, and Jarvis? Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” he said as he found a can of orange soda and popped it open, pouring it into two plastic tumblers.

“They do like you, Seth,” Jarvis pointed out. “I failed to see the harm in letting them seek you out.”

Seth sighed, shaking his head as the microwave beeped, letting him know the popcorn was done. He dumped that in a large bowl, loaded everything on a tray, and headed back to the kids without replying.

The movie began to play as he sat down. Natasha snuggled against his left side, setting her translator on the coffee table when Russian subtitles began to scroll across the bottom of the screen. Clint settled in on his right, bouncing slightly on the cushion, attention riveted on the screen.

They'd reached the Rescue Aid Society song when Jarvis coughed quietly. “Seth, there is an Agent Celeste from SHIELD here to see you,” he reported. “Shall I pause the film?”

Seth shook his head, slipping out from between Natasha and Clint. “Go ahead and watch without me. Show Agent Celeste up, please.”

Agent Celest, when she stepped into the sitting room, did not look like a SHIELD agent. She looked like a grandmother. Her hair was soft gray, pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and her uniform was more business casual than top-secret spy organization. She even had the half-moon glasses to complete the look, hanging around her neck on a gold chain.

“You must be Seth,” she said warmly, holding out a hand. “I'm Madison Celeste- feel free to call me Maddy.”

Seth nodded, shaking her hand. “Let's talk in the kitchen,” he suggested quietly. “The kids are watching a movie.”

She nodded, waving when she saw Clint glancing their way, and followed Seth past the couch and out of the room. They could still see the kids from here, but hopefully the kids couldn't hear them.

“Where are the others?” Maddy asked, setting her briefcase on the counter.

“A few floors up, with Amy. Natasha and Clint didn't want to watch _Mary Poppins_.”

She nodded, popping open her case and pulling out a small stack of folders. “Can't say I blame them- I found the movie painfully dull when I watched it,” she confided. “Here, these are the files. What you're allowed to see of them, at any rate- we didn't waste ink printing up the redacted parts. You'll find known allergies and triggers for all of them in there, as well as a comprehensive list of Steven Rogers' health issues at his current age. What likes and dislikes we were able to find, and a basic history to help avoid accidentally stepping on a land mine.”

Seth took the folders, flipping open the top one – Stark, Anthony – and skimming the top page. “Got it. I'll show these to Amy.”

“SHIELD would like to maintain a presence in the Tower, if at all possible.”

“You know Mr. Stark would say no.”

“Mr. Stark is eight years old- he doesn't have the legal presence to say no.”

“This is me saying it on his behalf,” Seth said, closing the folder. “These kids have been through enough at this point- they don't need SHIELD hanging over their heads. The Tower is as secure as it can get short of a 24/7 impenetrable force-field, and no one here would be comfortable having an agent around. The answer is no.”

Maddy nodded, closing her case with a click and picking it up. “Well, Fury can't say I didn't try,” she said brightly. “I'll let you get back to your movie, Seth- I'm sure JARVIS will keep me out of trouble on my way to see Amy. I heard about her facing down Fury on the helicarrier, by the way- thrilled to meet her. You have a nice morning, dear.”

Seth followed her to the elevator, just in case, then set the folders on his cart and went back to the couch. Natasha and Clint made room for him between them again, and he sat back to eat the last of the popcorn while Natasha clapped and giggled her appreciation of the giant alligators.

Maybe he was better with kids than he thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Jaws_ came out in 1975, and is most definitely not suitable for children. _The Rescuers_ came out in 1977, and is much more kid-friendly.


End file.
